Perchance to Dream
by PryzmKess
Summary: A different Lazytown fiction, darker and gritter.  Please enjoy.  Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first Lazytown, and possibly my last. I don't have any other thoughts for anymore stories, not even a sequal to this one. If I find something, I'll write it. In the meantime, enjoy this story.

Warnings: This story is not your normal Lazytown fiction. It is darker and gritter, though I hope you'll like the ending when it's done.

Disclaimers: I own nothing in Lazytown. This is purely for my own demented pleasure.

* * *

**_Perchance to Dream_**

She hated the subway. The florescent lights overhead burned away all color, leaving behind pale ghosts in the shapes of fellow passengers. The windows were turned into poor mirrors by the lights, casting her reflection back to her as a hazy mess mixed with the scene beyond the windows. Her arm was numb from clutching the handhold, trying to keep her balance. The train shrieked occasionally, as if protesting its duty and passengers. She wanted a cigarette in the worst way, but she'd promised that she'd quit. And she would, if it killed her.

It felt like it would sometimes, when the craving gnawed on her breastbone, and she knew that relief was a no further away than a bummed cig and a flick of a lighter. Stephanie's hands tightened, one holding her upright, one clutching her purse. She'd promised. And anyway, she couldn't smoke on the subway.

The subway stank, but that wasn't unusual. She shifted slightly on her sore feet, ignoring the press of bodies in front and behind her. Her jacket hid most of her waitress uniform, but a couple of women glanced at her short, pale blue skirt and white tennis shoes with a knowing expression. Against her will, her head sank down until it rested against her forearm, her long, brown hair brushing her skin. Her feet may hurt, but at least she could let her hair out of the ponytail she was required to wear while working at the diner.

She hated the subway. It didn't help that this was her fourth trip over this route today alone.

Something touched her leg, and Stephanie jumped and whirled. A man in a trench coat was moving, his body resettling as if he had just withdrawn his hand. He didn't appear to be wearing pants. Grimacing, she shoved between two passengers, earning grumbles for her effort, but she made it to the next open hand hold. She hated New York, too. Maybe she'd been here too long, too.

"All my life," she muttered aloud. Her fellow riders didn't even glance at the mumbling woman next to them. Either she was the least strange person they contacted today, or they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. It worked for her; she didn't want contact with them anymore than they wanted it with her.

The train jerked, screamed and hissed to an angry stop. It was her stop, and Stephanie began to work her way toward the doors. Thankfully, a number of other people were getting off here, too, and she didn't have to shove through everyone on the train, plus everyone trying to push themselves onto the train. She wanted out of the green-tinted train, out of the dark oppressive tunnel that reminded her that she was under the earth and out of more, so much more. She could do the first two things, at least.

That sensation of disassociation rolled over her again. She felt it, once or twice a day, tugging at her subconscious. _I don't belong here. This is not my world, my place. It's dark. It's cold. It's not home._ As always, she shook them off. She knew the truth: that this was her life, that it had always been her life. She could remember it, every great pain, every small joy. It was hers, without question.

The night air was cold, with the normal snap for New York City in the early spring. Thunder rumbled ominously, and Stephanie picked up her step. Getting rained on would be the perfect way to end the day.

Still, she slowed when she saw the stand on the sidewalk near her building. "Hey, girl," Michy called, waving as Stephanie approached her newspaper stand. "What's up?"

"Not much," Stephanie said with a smile, fingering the _Times_.

Michy's smile faded, becoming gentle and rueful as she watched the younger woman consider whether to buy the paper. "If you come by tomorrow, I'll put one back, if I don't sell out," the Jewish woman offered.

Stephanie smiled, feeling her first warm feeling since dinner. "Thanks," Stephanie said, "though honestly, I don't know why I bother, looking for another job. No one wants to hire a waitress, expect for other diners."

"Hey, hey, chin up, little one, you can do anything you want," Michy offered. It might have seemed more sincere, if Stephanie hadn't known that the woman suffered from mood swings; tomorrow, she could be just as gloomy as Stephanie was today.

"Thanks, Michy, for the paper," Stephanie said softly, managing a smile despite the sorrow that shrouded her. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yah, yah," Michy nodded, waving. "Good night, now!"

"You too!" Stephanie called, already walking for her apartment. Her feet hurt, and all she wanted to do was to drop into her comfy chair, but she doubted it would be that easy. She had no idea, though, how bad it would be.

Dishes, far more than should have been accumulated from one meal, were stacked in the sink. There was paper – the white paper she'd bought because the library wouldn't charge if you brought your own paper for printing things off – strewn across the room, most of it marked up. Reaching down, she tried to pick up a piece, only to find that it was glued to other pages, and the glue had seeped off the paper and into the carpet.

Something snapped, and Stephanie snarled to herself. It took all of her willpower to grab the arm of her chair and slip into its comforting seat rather than walk down the hall to the second bedroom. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax-

_-free yourself-_

-but she gave up after a moment. The dark walls of the cheap apartment were pushing in against her, and Stephanie stood up quickly. Snatching three dollars out of her purse, she slipped back out of the apartment. _I should stay. I can't leave them alone._

_It will be much, much worse if you stay._

"I wouldn't hurt them," Stephanie hissed to herself. With a dawning horror, she realized that she didn't quite believe herself.

It had been months – no, years, in the building. The tiny apartment, the sensation of being trapped – all pushed her to action. She had no chance to stop herself, and the only choice she was given was which way her feet would take her.

It was raining by the time she hit the sidewalk. She veered hard to the right, avoiding Michy's stand to the left. She didn't want to see the judgment in the other woman's eyes.

_Michael. Julia._ Her children: one of the few things that Romero had given her before he'd been deported to the Old Country, leaving her alone. She probably could have married him and tied him here, but she would have never stooped so low after finding out what he did all day. In a way, the deportation had been a relief; it had freed her from his influence. Sure his 'friends' tried to stop by and give her money, but she refused it. All she had to do was accept once, and she was theirs forever; she, and her children, too. It was the way that _La Cosa Nostra_ worked.

The rain quickly soaked though her jacket, but she couldn't feel the cold. She was running from the horror rising in her gut, but she carried it with her. _I would never hurt my babies._ Nope. Still didn't believe it.

"What is wrong with me!?" Stephanie screamed, stumbling to a stop as her feet stopped her. _I'm sick, I need help…_

Someone was smiling at her, and Stephanie turned she finally saw him in her peripherals. A life-sized cardboard cut-out of Superman grinned benevolently at her, and the young woman sighed. "There is no such thing as superheroes, Stephanie," she told herself.

She knew what she had to do. She'd been putting it off for a while now. But Children's Service would help her, she hoped. Maybe, at the least, they'd make sure Mike and Julie were safe. Safe from her.

The alley across the street erupted with sounds: jeers and cheers. It wasn't wise to be curious in New York, but for some reason-

_-a flash of blue, barely seen-_

-Stephanie found herself crossing the road, picking her way to the mouth of the alley, and peering into the darkness.

It was a wolf pack of men, surrounding and cornering another man. Stephanie's stomach clenched as she saw them start to close in on him – and then he rose in the air above them, spinning and twirling like leaf in the wind. "My god," she whispered, watching as he expertly evaded them. For a moment, she thought he would be fine, but she realized that he wasn't fighting them, he was avoiding them, and all it would take is one mistake-

He went down, drawn in by someone's unseen snatch.


	2. Chapter 2

He went down, drawn in by someone's unseen snatch. Stephanie didn't think. If she had, she might not have acted. But she found herself running forward, the mace spilling out of her pocket and into her hand. They were focused on their target, and never heard her.

She'd never had any classes on this, but she had grown up in New York, which was a course in self defense in itself. The one closest to her tumbled backwards as she stomped on the back of his knee, knocking him down. She sprayed him with the mace before he had a chance to react; then she spun and snapped another shot of the chemical irritant in an arc across the faces of the men who had turned to check on their buddy. Then it was just four against one – maybe one and a half if the guy she was saving could get on his feet.

"Get back," she ordered, hoping she sounded authoritative as she held the mace between her and the men. "Leave him alone." And that's when it hit her: she was saving this guy. _What is wrong with me!? I could get hurt, or killed! I'm no superhero!_ At least these guys didn't look like real street thugs, just some preppy kids up to no good.

The man at her feet groaned and tried to get up; Stephanie held the mace out while leaning down and grabbing his arm. Hauling up on it, she managed to get him upright, even if he was leaning on her a bit. With him up, and towering over her, the other four guys reevaluated their positions. With angry scowls, they grabbed their buddies and slipped away into the night. Stephanie relaxed and tried not to fall down as her knees shook.

"Why?" the man croaked, his voice thick with pain. "Why did they hurt me?" He sounded bewildered.

With a sigh, Stephanie glanced up at the man she'd saved – and did a double take. "Probably because of your stupid mustache," she said. But, that aside, he was really handsome, with a strong face, even if it was starting to bruise. "Do you need a hospital?"

"I… no," he said. "I think I'm fine." He shivered, and his bare arm was cold under her hand.

_And no good deed goes unpunished_, Stephanie sighed to herself. "Come on," she said, slipping his arm over her shoulder. "Let's get out of this alley and get you somewhere where I can check you out." Stephanie winced as she heard what she said; that could be taken wrong. But the man was a gentleman; she didn't even hear a snort from him. Grateful, she put one arm around his waist, helping to hold him in the vertical position.

The rain had been blocked by the alley walls, but back on the street, the full force of the downfall obscured most of the available brightness from the streetlights over their heads. "Great," Stephanie muttered, not liking her options. With a tug at his waist, she led him back to her apartment building. Her foyer was dry and well-lit; she could assess the damage there.

Getting her door open was a chore; she finally had to make him stand on his own while she got the key turned and hauled the heavy glass and wire door open. She was relived when he limped inside on his own; it was a good sign for his recovery.

He sank onto the bench, wincing. Frowning in sympathy, Stephanie sat down next to him, ignoring the puddle of water they were building under their bodies. Now that she had a better look at him, she had a very good idea why he'd been attacked. He was wearing some kind of weird suit that reminded her of workout clothes, probably because of the stripes down the sides. A short-sleeved shirt was half-covered by a vest held in place only by some kind of clip with the number ten on it. A strange floppy hat and odd goggles completed the outfit. "Wow. That's… some get up."

"What?" he panted, looking down at himself. "It is my superhero outfit."

"Yeeeahhh," Stephanie muttered, blinking. _Oh, crap. Of all the guys you save, you have to save the crazy one. Let's get this over with quick, and get him outta your building._ "Ok, let me check out you. Wiggle your fingers." He did, and Stephanie nodded approvingly. "Good, good. You were walking on your own, that's good." She reached for his hat, only to have him grab her arm. Her heart jumped into her chest as her brain screamed at her, _The crazy man just grabbed you._

"I never take my hat off in public," he told her sincerely. "It is part of my hidden identity."

"That's nice," Stephanie said flippantly, fighting past the fear, "but it comes off now. I need to check you for skull abrasions."

"But-"

"I won't tell your secret identity, if I learn it," she assured him. He looked doubtful, but he released her arm and she pulled the hat and goggles off. Dark blonde hair was freed from the cloth, and slipped into curls as she set the hat in his hands. Tilting his head back, she took a good look at him. It was a little bit _too _good of a look; it sent her thoughts spinning down the wrong path. But, it allowed her to shake her head and admit, "Nope, I don't know who you are. Your secret is safe." She started to feel his head, searching for swelling. The cold strands of hair coiled around her fingers, clinging wetly to her. "What is you- er, what do I call you, anyway?"

"Sportacus," he answered, striking a mini-pose.

Stephanie made a face of disbelief, but she managed to refrain from a smart-ass comment. "I'm Stephanie," she said.

He jerked his head back, staring at her in shock. "Stephanie?" he murmured, studying her features. "But… you… this is not possible!" He surged to his feet, clearly agitated, and Stephanie jumped backwards, giving him room. "You… cannot be her."

"Who?" Stephanie asked, even as she berated herself. _See, this is what happens when you stick your nose in someone else's business. You haven't just stuck your hand in the crazy, you've sunk your whole arm in it._

"Stephanie, my friend," Sportacus said, staring at her. "She is nine, with pink hair."

"Nope, clearly not me," Stephanie agreed, edging toward the stairs. She might make it to her apartment, if she could get enough of a head start. He tumbled though the air suddenly, invading her personal space by landing toe-to-toe with her. Before she could protest, he had taken her chin his hand, tilting her head back and meeting her eyes.

_So… blue_, she thought, staring into his eyes, startled into stillness by the unexpected intimacy. Normally, when a man put her in this position – not that one had for years – she expected a kiss. But he just stared into her eyes, confusion spreading over his features. "It is you… I don't know how, but your eyes… Stephanie, don't you recognize me? It is Sportacus! I've come to take you home!" he declared.

His crazy ramblings tore her out of her fugue. "Uh, no. For starters, I'm home," she said firmly, pulling away from him.

"No, you belong in Lazytown!" he pleaded, reaching for her. Stephanie batted his hand away as he said, "This world – this place is not real. You're asleep, dreamin-"

"You're telling me my kids aren't real?" Stephanie snapped, feeling her hip bump the banister. Feeling backwards with her foot, she stepped up, beginning to move away from him. He was too close, but maybe she could knock him down if he followed her. "You're crazy. This is my world, my home."

"This place is dark and dangerous," he said, still holding out a hand for her, waiting for her to take it. "Tell me you feel like you belong here."

She hated him in that instant, for saying what she wanted to hear and knew wasn't real. "This _is_ my home. You're the dangerous one, the _freak_. You're the one who is dangerous to me!"

The storm roared in agreement, and the lights went out.

Stephanie froze, her other hand grabbing for and finding the banister in the dark. And it was total darkness; even the streetlights were out. After an eternity, the emergency lights snapped on, buzzing annoyingly while they ineffectually pushed at the blackness surrounding them. But they did illuminate his face, the utter look of pain on his face, and in that moment, Stephanie hated herself.

In the total silence, she heard screams, familiar and familial. "Oh, god, Mike… Julie!" she cried.


	3. Chapter 3

In the total silence, she heard screams, familiar and familial. "Oh, god, Mike… Julie!" she cried, turning. The crazy man in blue was forgotten as she dashed up the stairs. She'd always been fit, healthy, and now, that stood her in good stead as she raced up four flights of stairs. At the dirty door to her apartment, she fumbled with her keys, twisting back the two deadbolts as fast as she could. Flinging the door open, she could hear the muffled screams resolve themselves into words, and only from one child.

"Julie, baby, what's wrong?" she gasped as soon as she staggered into the small bedroom her children shared. Julie sat up in her bed, screaming for her, while Mike was sitting next to her, trying to hug his little sister.

"It'zs dhark!" Julie wailed, pushing herself off the bed and away from her brother. She ran to Stephanie and threw her arms around her mother, still crying. Her thick, dark hair fell around her mother's hands as she hugged her back, holding her tight.

"I tried," Michael said, his little face drawn and tired.

"I know," Stephanie smiled, reaching out and pulling him close. "You were being a great big brother." Her fingers stroked his dark curls comfortingly, watching them shine in the light-

_Light?_

Sportacus smiled at her when she glanced behind her, the flashlight she kept next to the phone driving back the night. She hadn't even noticed him retrieving it, or turning it on for her.

"Mom?" Michael asked, looking at the stranger in his house.

"Get out!" Stephanie snapped, hugging her children protectively closer.

"You needed help," he explained softly, the smile unfading. "I'm an above average superhero. It is what I do – help!"

"You don't look like a superhero," Michael said, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. Sportacus smiled and struck another dramatic pose, still managing to hold the flashlight steady. "Ohhh, now I see it."

"Can you make it light again?" Julie sniffled.

"No, but I don't need to," he beamed down at her. "You're a brave girl, and the dark is nothing to be afraid of."

Amazingly, Julie seemed to calm down, smiling a little and nodding. "Ok," she murmured, releasing her death grip on her mother.

"Ok, so you're a miracle worker, but you still have to leave," Stephanie said firmly.

Sportacus looked at her for a long moment before finally nodding. With a bow, he handed Julie the flashlight. His face creased in a sudden, infectious grin as he flipped backwards twice before cart wheeling out of her apartment.

"Wow!" Julie screamed, bouncing with excitement.

"Mom… he was cool!" Michael said, still staring where the guy had disappeared. "Who was that?"

Stephanie struggled for an answer. Finally, she simply answered, "Sportacus."

Getting the kids calmed and back to bed meant that Stephanie was short on sleep, so she was already annoyed when she saw the sleeping form on the bench in the foyer as she tried to leave in the morning. "Crap," she whispered, deciding that she'd just sneak past him before he woke up.

Julie had other ideas. Her daughter scampered over and grabbed one of the long, crazy halves of Sportacus' mustache. "Wake up!" she shouted loudly enough to rouse most of the neighbors on this floor.

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" he said, laughing even as he grimaced in pain.

"Julie! Stop that!" Stephanie said, grabbing her daughter's hand and extracting the facial hair from her grasp. "Don't pull on people, and especially not on things attached to them!"

"Flip!" Julie demanded.

"Yeah, do that flipping thing again!" Michael agreed, his eyes lighting up with glee.

Before Stephanie could protest, Sportacus was bouncing to his feet and into a flip. He landed badly, a grunt coming from him as he ended in far too deep of a crouch. "Sorry," he said awkwardly. "I am still sore from last night."

"Did you sleep in our foyer?" Michael asked, frowning.

"Yes, my airship is not here," Sportacus replied, "and so, this was the only place I had."

"You don't have an apartment?" Stephanie asked. She didn't ask, _A nice padded cell, maybe?_

"No, I do not," he answered, giving her an easy shrug. He was smiling as if this didn't matter. Then his stomach growled. "Where can I find a food tube?" he asked her, still with that same hopeless smile.

"Food tube? Uh huh… look, Sport, I don't know what things are like in your La-la Land, but things don't work like that in NYC. You need a job, and money and a place to live that _isn't_ a prop from _Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow_… and you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"No," he agreed easily.

_Oh, god, it's like a puppy!_ she moaned to herself. And like most helpless creatures, it awakened a mothering instinct in her. "Fine. Fine. I can deal with this," she said, thinking rapidly. She could beg up some clothes; there were a couple of widows on the sixth floor she could ask for clothes, and maybe Romero had left something behind is she dug in the back of her closet deeply enough…

Still deep in thought, she escorted her children and her strange guest back up the stairs. _He's crazy, but harmless._ Stephanie remembered the goofy look on his face and added, _Probably harmless, and it's just until I can get him back on his feet._ It didn't matter, because it seemed as though she had adopted him.


	4. Chapter 4

It took a year for her to realize what was happening. He was now a part of her life; the temporary help had reversed itself when he'd started to help her survive. Sportacus cooked, cleaned, helped with the kids and even brought money into the house when he started washing dishes at the diner that Stephanie worked at. They had become partners, surviving and raising her kids together. Even those dark whispers, the ones that pushed her to take out her anger on her children, had diminished, pushing back by his presence.

But he'd done more than helped them; he'd enriched them. His added income had meant that she could feed Mike and Julie something other than ramen; they could buy meat and cheese, and fruits and vegetables, which Sportacus insisted on calling sports candy. And he'd gotten them out of the house. At his urging, they didn't sit around watching television. Instead, they went to a park, or the Park, or to the Zoo, or a museum – so many places in New York that Stephanie had never known or bothered to find. But Sportacus had a knack for it, for finding something fun and active that was affordable. It was a gift he had, and he gave it freely.

But the monotony had eaten at him, though it had taken a long time for it to show on his face. One of the first things she'd insisted on when she'd taken him in was that he shave the mustache, which he had done reluctantly. But for a long time after, the shadow of the mustache remained, and sometimes, when he was his most gallant, she could even see it clearly.

But today, there was no shadow. He stood next to her on the subway, looking tired, his hand hanging onto one of the handhold. Julie had been sick for most of the night, and they'd taken turns sitting up with her while she coughed and made trips to the bathroom. His blue eyes didn't glint with pleasure, but rather were dull with the wear and tear of life. This life was destroying everything she loved about him.

_At least I can finally admit it to myself_, she sighed. At her sigh, he smiled at her, and she saw the tiniest flicker of what he had been in his eyes. He could be saved. "You need to go home," she whispered to him. "Back to Lazytown." She wasn't sure if it were real, but even if it were just in his head, but it made him amazing, made him glow with everything good and right.

The smile left his face. That was something else he'd learned to do here: frown, a real and true frown that reached even his eyes. "No," he said firmly. "I came here to save you, Stephanie."

"You can't, you crazy, insane man," she whispered, her hand reaching up and stroking his cheek. Tears rose in her eyes; she hated them, but she couldn't help but cry at the endless devotion this man gave her. _So selfless, so wondrous… and all because he can't let go of this dreamland, this Lazytown_. But it was that dreamland that was part of her attraction to him. He was perfect, and utterly insane; but he wouldn't be the same if he were sane. And she had to admit, she might not love him if he were sane.

But that worry about sanity might not last; she'd dreamed about his land, though she'd never admitted it to Sportacus. It was a magical place where it was always time to play and no one struggled to live. And she was a child again, but not like before, at the countless foster homes; instead, she was happy and loved, with many wonderful friends, full of joy and a head-full of pink hair.

"I can, and I will," he answered, taking her hand in his. "Anything is possible, remember?"

"Sport," she whispered, shaking her head and fighting deep sorrow, "I never said that. Lazytown doesn't exist. We've been over this."

"It is real, and I'll find a way to get you back home," he replied, but this time, Stephanie saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Even that was finally fading away.

_It will kill him_, she knew suddenly, with complete certainty that if he stopped believing in Lazytown, then the last spark of true beauty in him would fade away. And Stephanie didn't know how to stop it.

So she kissed him.

His blue eyes widened, then fluttered shut as the kiss deepened. They were firmly ignored by the rest of the riders as their lips joined in sweet harmony. And once it started, it couldn't be stopped. Sure, their lips came apart, when they were walked home – though they stopped frequently to kiss again – but what they had started together couldn't be slowed.

There was fire in his eyes again. It wasn't the same, but it was close enough.

They quieted once inside, worried about waking up the kids. They needed have bothered; the children were fast asleep, with their door closed. Ms. Cavendash was thanked for baby-sitting; the old woman smiled knowingly at their flushed faces and bright eyes.

Sportacus tried to stop it, before they crossed the line. "Stephanie," he whispered, breaking a kiss with her, "we can't. I can't. You're a child."

"I am not a little girl," she said firmly, "not here." And she'd undone her blouse and his eyes had darkened, and there were no more interruptions.

Afterwards, she lay resting against him, watching the city lights from her small window wash over his form. "Thank you," she murmured softly.

He drew a deep breath, and Stephanie braced herself for the guilty self-loathing. "Stephanie… I think I know how to save you."

"I'm not… what?" She'd been prepared to reassure him that she was a grown woman, and capable of having sex if she wanted to have sex. "Save me?"

"From here," he told her, stroking her hair.

"In a way, you already have," she replied, curling against him. A year ago, he wouldn't have understood what she wasn't saying. Tonight, he simply nodded, understanding as much as a man could. It was another mark of the loss of his innocence.

It was a sobering thought to fall asleep on.

She dreamed; Robbie Rotten was angrily kicking dirt in his silly dinosaur costume, foiled again. Ziggy was so proud of himself for being brave, even if it hadn't been a real dinosaur. And she was herself brave, with pink, pink hair and a love of dancing.

She woke up humming, "Bing Bang Diggly Dong," and was not sure why.

Sportacus was still next to her; when he heard her hum, he smiled and said, "You have to believe, Stephanie. You know that Lazytown exists. You know. Just believe, Stephanie. Just believe."

She _wanted_ to. "The kids… they need-"

"I know," he said softly, clasping her hand to his chest, his blue eyes tender. "But you need to believe."

She wanted to believe to live in a land of sports candy and fun, where her best friend was a superhero and she laughed and smiled all the time. _I'm going insane. Would it hurt? Hurt to believe that there was such a place, even if I can't go there?_

She could see it, when she closed her eyes. Even though her hand felt Sportacus' bare chest, she _saw_ Lazytown, with the play yard, and her house, her friends and her family. And in that one crystalline moment, she believed.

"Mommy? Why are you in bed with Sportacus?" Michael asked, and Stephanie's eyes shot open. Her hands snatched for her sheet to cover up, but thankfully, she already was concealed. Julie peered into the room, round-eyed, giggling like she did when she was unsure or uncomfortable. The whole episode had shattered her belief in Lazytown, but it didn't matter, she had _believed_.

Her children disappeared without warning, and Stephanie sat straight up in bed. "Michael! Julia!" she cried, turning to Sportacus, reaching for his support before she even knew what was wrong. He was gone, and she was alone when she saw her world deconstruct.

The walls faded away, letting in the light from a New York morning, but even that was dying, the sun going out like a lightbulb shutting off. For a second, she was in bed, then she was on her floor, then on the street, then the ground, the layers that made up her world peeling away into nothingness. The earth went next, followed by the sky and even the stars that had been briefly visible. Even gravity cut out, leaving her floating in the blackness of nothingness.

Her last thought before she disappeared was, "I didn't get to say goodbye to my babies."


	5. Chapter 5

Stephanie woke up, confused. There had been… a train underground? And a grimy apartment? Maybe two children, maybe?

"Stephanie!" her uncle cried joyfully. "Sportacus, you did it! She's awake!"

Stephanie looked to her left and found Sportacus lifting himself off a cot next to her bed, removing some strange band from his forehead. His cap was still on, and Stephanie had a sudden image of pulling that hat off to reveal a riot of blonde curls. The memory faded quickly, until she wasn't sure that it had been even a dream.

Hands touched her temple, and she looked to see Pixel pulled a similar band off her head. "What… what's going on?" she asked.

One word was all she needed to hear: "Robbie."

In fairness to the villain, he hadn't realized what would happen. He'd thought that the weathered blue-prints that he had found were for a mind-control device. Pixel had agreed with his initial assessment, but some of the footnotes that Robbie had skipped revealed the true nature of the machine Robbie had built and carelessly used on her: a mind-trap. It had locked her in a permanent sleep, building a dream world so real she wouldn't fight it. It had put her in a position where she had to fight to survive, without the time to wonder about the strange dreams she had been having.

And so she'd slept, living another life, unaware of Lazytown. Or so they had told her; Stephanie didn't remember anything after putting on the 'crown' that Robbie had given her. She probably shouldn't have trusted him, but he'd said it was some junk he was throwing out, and she and the others had been playing Knights, jousting with foam poles and stick horses.

Regardless of the deception necessary, it had been Sportacus who was brave enough to save her, to help her wake up. Pixel had built another headband, and had made adjustments to it so that Sportacus would slip into Stephanie's dream and remember who he was, unlike Stephanie. Now she just wondered what he had done to save her. So as soon as she was allowed out of bed, she went looking for him.

He was easy to find; she just drifted toward the sound of happiness and play, a smile curling her lips as soon as she saw him. _It's good to see him looking so happy._ Then she realized how odd that thought was; she'd never seen him truly be unhappy. "Those random thoughts are going to be hard to get used to," she muttered, before reminding herself, "but anything is possible!"

"Stephanie!" Ziggy called gleefully, echoed by Trixie and the others gathered around her. She got a hug from them all, including Sportacus. Warily, she studied him carefully, hiding her speculations. Hugging him felt… different, but she wasn't sure how. She didn't even have the ability to conceive of the strange emotions she was feeling, or the knowledge to put them in context in this life. She hoped that she'd become more comfortable with this in time.

"Sportacus," she said when the others were far enough downfield that they wouldn't hear her talking, "do you remember anything about that dream-world?"

"No," Sportacus said, his voice free of guile. "I only get vague impressions, like a sense that I was tired a lot, and afraid for you." He gave her a wide, open grin. "I remember you calling me insane." He chuckled at the blush that enveloped her face. "I think I washed a lot of dishes."

"It's kinda scary, isn't it?" she asked softly.

He nodded silently. "But," he added after a moment, "I'd do it again."

"I know," Stephanie said, nodding. "It's what you do."

"It's what I do for you," Sportacus answered. Stephanie grinned and threw her arms around him, happy to hear his caring words, and missing the undertext that she was too innocent to understand now. He grinned and hugged her back, before adding, "Stingy wants to play tag-football. Feel up to joining?"

Stephanie groaned. "He just picks that because he's so good at holding onto the ball." But she still bounced to her feet and took off at a run, toward her friends. After a moment, Sportacus threw himself into a rolling tumble, following her.

And all was well, if a little changed, in Lazytown.


End file.
